


Lay Me Down

by misomilk



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, headcanons galore, promptio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misomilk/pseuds/misomilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a certain loneliness in loving someone, the same way there is heart ache in being welcomed back, even when you have no right to come home. WARNING: Self-inflicted hunger, sexual situations. [Drabble Meme Prompt: "It could be worse."]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Longest oneshot I've written. Wow. Starts before the journey through FFXV, discusses some of my headcanons/theories for FFXV and the outcome of such headcanons. 
> 
> I must point a link to flourish-of-steel @ tumblr’s [Gladiolus + gladiolus flowers](http://flourish-of-steel.tumblr.com/post/116548236481/gladiolus-sword-lily) artwork bec it totally helped me when writing this. uwu
> 
> Please enjoy your time reading this. :')

His apartment smells of gladiolus flowers, a heavenly mix of apple blossom and rose scents wafting in the air. Prompto has bought more than twenty bouquets now, one for each day Gladiolus hasn’t come back. It would be best if he stopped buying any more, the first few batches already wilted. The blonde teen no longer has enough money to buy dinner tomorrow, broke from buying too many of these bouquets. But how could he stop when this small forest of flowers at the foot of his bed keep him company in Gladiolus’ place?

Prompto holds his knees close to his chest, burying his head in the space between. He’s not crying, no. He’s not missing Gladiolus, no. He certainly isn’t worried, either. He’s simply watering the poor flowers with whatever liquid he could produce, the tears falling from his eyes and down to the gladiolus flower he’s picked up which he’s placed against his cheek. It hurts less to sit still like this, see, and not have to go all five steps to the kitchen to replace the water in his bouquets’ makeshift pots.

Hah, Prompto laughs.

Denial sure is sweet.

It’s suffocating, this agony that gnaws at him from the chest and outward, blazing in his lungs, acidic in his stomach, prickling through his arms and legs, throbbing behind his eyes. It’s unhealthy to want to be with someone all the time, he knows, wrong to be so dependent. But Prompto needs Gladiolus so much he can’t put it in words. Instead, it manifests in the empty spaces of his bed at night, in the chilly air that presses against his skin, in the silence that rings in his ears.

Prompto needs Gladiolus. He needs him close and warm, needs to feel secure in his thick, solid arms.

Prompto wants him alive. Blood flowing, skin warm, chest heaving with breath.

Not blood rotting within still veins, not skin cold as ice, not lying motionless on the ground, lungs empty of air.

Prompto wishes and wishes and wishes. Each, and every time.

_Don’t die in battle, please._

Ironic for Prompto to think such thoughts, but the words slip his lips whenever he could. A prayer to whichever god, Etro or not, who would hear his plea.

It’s difficult to love a man who, from birth, has been sworn to give his life up for _this_ kingdom, for the royal family he and generations past have protected with their very souls. It weighs heavier in Prompto’s chest because he cannot summon a loyalty for this kingdom that is even at least a tenth of Gladiolus’–not for a country he hadn’t grown up in, not for a kingdom where he trusted no one but a handful, not for a land that keeps taking whom he loved away with the uncertainty if he’d come back alive or not. (There are other reasons, but he’d rather not think about them now. Time will come when they resurface once more.)

Prompto can see how a call to loyalty can move someone to death. (He knows it. It’s been injected into his blood.). But he doesn’t find meaning in it. You save a kingdom and then what? What happens to the people left behind? What becomes of them?

Heroism is its own brand of selfishness.

Die as a hero for a country, but leave your loved ones feeling empty and awful.

Sometimes Prompto would rather he never fell for Gladiolus. He’d wish he fell for that voluptuous lady across the street, who winks at him when he eats lunch with Noctis and Ignis, the girl over the counter when he orders coffee for Ignis, who writes her number on the cup along with tiny hearts, the sweet, little miss who owns the flower shop he regularly visits, who starts giving him gladiolus flowers for free. (Bless her soul most of all. He can finally start eating again.)

There was a time when he could have fallen for any of them, for any woman, back when his eyes were reserved to look at the curves of their body, when his fingers were kept clean to tease them when they were wet and excited, when his heart raced fast for wild nights of passion, a different partner each night. But now his feelings had settled, stabilized. Now his eyes are reserved to trace the curves on Gladiolus’ tattoos, his fingers kept clean to spread himself so Gladiolus could drive into him smoothly, his heart racing, exploding, aching for the man who thrusts into him with much fervor, filling him with so much love and passion, more than he’d ever feel he is worthy.

Prompto opens his eyes, finally pulled out of that long stream of unrelenting thoughts, freckled cheeks strewn with dried tears and an incoming layer of new ones. A gladiolus flower lies on his chest, the same one he’d held before he detached himself from this world for a few moments. He moves to the foot of the bed, grabs an armful of flowers and lies back down, surrounds himself with them, falling asleep to their scent and thoughts of a man who shares their name.

***

The army comes back after two more weeks, bringing with them the victory of Insomnia, promises of peace, and a new dawn of hope. It isn’t until another week later, however, that Gladiolus finally meets Prompto, the latter’s worries and insecurities tucked away behind his usual, bright, cheery grin.

Not that Gladiolus isn’t quick to see past the facade. To cheer the teen up, he treats him to lunch.

They talk about Gladiolus’ time away from home. The burly man boasts how he’d taken down titanic machinery, how he saved dozens of comrades from enemy bullets, and how close he’d been to death a few times. Prompto grimaces at the last, uncomfortable for him to imagine Gladiolus drowning in a pool of blood, but he tries not to show it. Instead, he comments it’s unbelievable Gladiolus came out unscathed. Prompto’s mouth is filled with french fries and about to take another bite out of his hotdog as he comments this. Gladiolus shrugs, smug, and says as if Prompto understood what it meant, “Magitek.”

Prompto slurps down his soda, clearing his throat of the obstacles of food. “Well, if Magitek is so godly good, how did you get that–”

The blonde teen catches himself before he could say it, _that word_ , but Gladiolus already shook, perhaps already uncomfortable. No. No, no, no. Prompto wasn’t ever supposed to ask about this. It’s always been at the back of his mind, yes, but Prompto’s always sworn to himself to keep his lips shut about it, afraid of the story that lies underneath. The teen wonders if his trying to evade the thought of Gladiolus dying, his desperate attempt to protect his own self from hurt, he had forgotten he should be more sensitive about Gladiolus’ feelings and his possibly sensitive past: the scar, the blaring one that crosses Gladiolus’ left eye.

Gladiolus smiles, though his eyes certainly do not show glee for a moment. For that moment, he is distant, like he’s remembering things on a screen behind his eyes. “Well, it could be worse. Battle, that is.” He downs the last of his burger, sucking the meat’s juices out of his fingers. “But it wasn’t this time, so it shouldn’t matter, right?”

***

When they’re on the docks, eating ice cream and feeling the fresh sea breeze on their skin, watching ships pass by, Gladiolus brings the topic up himself.

“He was an ally.”

Prompto turns his head away from the breeze too look at Gladiolus on his left. “What?”

“The guy who gave me this scar.”

Prompto’s heart drops. He’s surprised Gladiolus is opening this up to him. Does the man trust him that much now? The teen finds himself both happy and heartbreakingly hurt if that was the case. He bites down his lip, a possible scene in the future coming to mind.

Gladiolus was betrayed by an ally. Prompto wouldn’t be the first.

“Scars aren’t caused by people from enemy lines.” Gladiolus continues, and he’s looking far away now. Far past the boats, far past the horizon. His gaze is deep and holds Prompto’s heart in a tight grip. “The guy’s still alive. He has a family now down at Accordio.” The smile on the Gladiolus’ face is unexpectedly gentle, as if he has no trace of ill will against the man that gave him a permanent mark of betrayal. “I should visit them sometime.”

Prompto clutches onto the railing before him, his ice cream spilling onto his other hand from neglect.

_When I betray you, would you forgive me, too?_

***

Underneath his white cloak, he keeps a gladiolus flower and plans to change it whenever it wilts. His white cloak, the mark of a man of Niflheim, should feel like home. It should feel like he’s come back to what he’s always been part of, but it doesn’t.

It should feel like honor in his chest. He was able to accomplish his mission that spanned _years_ , and finally came to completion when he completely disarmed the Lucis kingdom’s prince and entourage, catching them off guard with his betrayal just as was planned. It should feel like honor in his chest, but instead it tastes like a perpetual bitterness on his tongue.

Gladiolus’ eyes.

Prompto can see them whenever his own eyes shut close. He can still vividly recall the amount of worry–not even a trace of fear, or hurt–when the teen had shot right through the eagle’s head on the burly man’s chest, the same spot Prompto loved touching, the same spot he’d kissed just the night before.

This must be what Gladiolus meant when they were out for lunch so many months ago. When Prompto’s heart was hurting as much as it is now, aching and screeching for the man his heart pines for.

“It could be worse.”

Yes. It could be worse, because the man pulling the trigger could be the man who mattered most. It could be worse because the man you’ve shot means more to you than anything else in the world.

Even when they’re now apart, and Prompto has made it clear he can’t ever stay beside the man he loved again, the same prayer passes his lips.

_Please don’t die._

***

Days later their headquarters is infiltrated by a ruthless prince on a rampage. Prompto laughs because he knows, by the amount of screaming he’s hearing, Noctis is in a bad mood, probably didn’t get enough sleep the night before. When the blond teen looks out the window, he sees daggers flying towards their soldiers’ chests with the deadshot accuracy Ignis himself taught him. If Prompto was near enough, he knows he’ll smell spices on him, fresh from cooking lunch.

And then that rambunctious laughter echoes through the halls.

It’s nice to be reunited so soon (even though guilt throbs in his chest, and he knows he has to fend them off rather than go back to their side), but why are they here?

“We’re here to claim back one of our own.” Noctis announces once he’s at the main hall, translucent swords surrounding him as his eyes flashed red. (Wow, are those ten swords? Last time he was with them the prince only had eight.) “Give us Prompto back.”

Prompto’s superior mouths threats to the infiltrators, shouts about how futile their attempts are, for a man of Niflheim forever stays a man of Niflheim. Prompto agrees, though a frown is on his face, and the bitterness is back in his mouth. He agrees by shooting right at Ignis this time, though the man easily deflects it with a dagger.

“Prompto, your skills have dulled.” Ignis pushes up his glasses. “We must resume training once again.”

“I’m not coming with you.” Prompto replies, his voice seething with poison. (Though he’s not sure if the poison is directed at the people below him, or at himself.) He’s about to shoot at Noctis, even though he knows those blades surrounding the prince will simply deflect his bullets. In a heartbeat, Gladiolus jumps from where he was and lands somewhere behind Prompto.

“Not if I have any say about it.” He says, then Prompto blacks out.

***

Prompto wakes up in a room he’s unfamiliar with, and Gladiolus staring out a window on his right. It seems the infiltrators’ mission was successful. They got Prompto back.

But why?  
Why would they want him back?

“Oh, you’re awake.” Gladiolus smiles at him when he looks over. “Are you hungry? We’ve got some roasted garula. Iggy saved it up for you.”

Prompto frowns at the plate being handed over to him, though his stomach shrieks with glee that he’s finally about to taste Ignis’ cooking once again. However, his stubornness persists. “Why did you come for me?”

Gladiolus laughs short, through his nose. “You’re asking as if you didn’t want us to.”

“I sure didn’t. I didn’t ask you to.” Prompto looks down at his hands. Being this close to Gladiolus, he can finally see that there's a scar where he shot the man. He can’t ever look up at Gladiolus again if there are reminders of his treachery. “Why did you take me back?”

“I’ll answer that when you answer me.” Gladiolus pats the other on the legs to make him look up. Prompto doesn’t budge. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Prompto inhales, and then he can’t let go of the breath. He wants to answer, but his voice fails him.

_It’s because I’m in love with you. And I never wanted to betray you guys. But I didn’t want to betray my country either, though now I realize how stupid that is because, really, what I care about most is just you. You three. No one else._

So many words, so many feelings, but none of them dare come out.

When Gladiolus gets no reply, he starts to explain what Ignis told him to. He and Prompto are to share the same hotel room for the night. Noctis doesn’t want Prompto running off to only Etro knows where, and Ignis trusts Gladiolus would be enraged enough to push Prompto down every time he attempted to leave. They’ll resume their journey in the morning, after Noctis beats Prompto’s ass for ever trying anything like that, and drills into his chocobo-head that he can’t ever do that again.

“You mean a lot to us, Prompto. If tracking down your headquarters and getting you back is anything to go by.” The man sighs. “If that isn’t enough, I’ll chain you right to me so you’ll stay until you get it.”

“I won’t ever get it.”

“Yeesh, you’re being difficult.” Gladiolus laughs short again. He shoves the plate towards Prompto once more. “For now, eat.”

Prompto takes the plate of food and starts to eat. When the first piece of garula meat melts in his mouth, just the way he remembers it would, tears drop from his eyes. Halfway through his meal he’s already a sobbing mess.

“You mean a lot to us, Prompto.” Gladiolus says again, as if it’s the perfect time to say it. As if he knows it hasn’t sunk into Prompto’s stubborn mind. “You mean a lot to us.”

“Thank you.” is as much as Prompto could muster, his grip tightening around the spoon.

He wants to say ‘I’m sorry’. An endless string of ‘I’m sorry’s. But he still thinks he isn’t worth it, not worth to spill apologies, not worth forgiveness. He’ll say it, eventually. Maybe. For now, he eats, he cries, he looks at Gladiolus and that scar and wonders if things will ever be the same between them.

Prompto wouldn’t ever understand why he could betray these people. These people have been his home all along. That they ever tried, at the cost of their lives, to get him back. He knows this is his place.

***

They lie next to each other in bed in the hotel’s provided bathrobes, freshly showered, hair dripping wet. They’re not touching, but Prompto can feel Gladiolus’ heat emanating from his skin.

It must be strange to be in bed with a man who shot you mere days before, the younger thinks. Even stranger to only be clothed in a thick, fluffy bathrobe as you sit next to each other.

His fingers drum on his stomach. Prompto doesn’t know if it’s alright to, but he wants to pull himself closer to the other man, wants to pull their bathrobes off and start touching warm skin.

In the few days he’d separated from the troupe, Prompto had settled for a future where he would never see Gladiolus again. He’d used his betrayal to convince himself he’ll be alright, even if he never sees the one man his heart pines for, but now that Gladiolus was right here next to him, in the flesh, blood pumping, chest heaving with life, it was difficult to resist the urge to just trap himself in those thick arms.

Gladiolus’ words–“You mean a lot to us, Prompto”–echo in his mind, and the blonde starts to wonder, “Does that mean I still matter to you? In the same way as before?”

Prompto sighs, his own thoughts stressing him out, his fingers still tingling to touch the other’s warm skin. “You were right.”

Gladiolus tears his eyes from the television screen to look at Prompto. “About what?”

“About how it could be worse.”

A few seconds pass, the only noise in the room being that of the sounds from the television.

“Was it?” Gladiolus speaks, knowing well what Prompto refers to.

“Yeah.” Prompto presses his lips together. He looks everywhere around the room before he speaks again. His hands clasp and unclasp on top of his lap. “I shot you.”

Gladiolus looks back at the television and starts switching channel after channel. After a heavy breath, he replies. “You did.”

None of them speak for a while, even though “I’m sorry"s are overflowing in Prompto’s mind.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Gladiolus stands up. The shake of the bed when Gladiolus’ weight is off it hurts Prompto. He wonders if, perhaps, it wasn’t time to bring the topic up, and he might have ruined what comfortable mood they’ve set up so far since his retrieval.

The blonde teen watches Gladiolus put on his clothes and head out the door. But right before Gladiolus closes it shut, the man looks back at Prompto.

Brown eyes pierce blue.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back soon.”

***

“Good. You’re still here.” Gladiolus laughs when he enters the room. Prompto isn’t facing the door, but he whips his head towards Gladiolus when he smells the fragrance that permeates the air once the man enters. “It would’ve been awkward if you weren’t.”

Prompto watches Gladiolus approach him at his side of the bed and hand him a bouquet of flowers. These flowers. These special flowers.

“Gladio, I–”

“They’re for you.”

The weight of these red and white flowers, petals like a blend between lily and sword, is familiar in Prompto’s hand. He remembers being an idiot, his mind gone haywire when Gladiolus wasn’t near to ground himself to, and preferring to buy bouquets of these flowers to keep him company rather than food to make him survive. He holds the bouquet close, presses flowers to his chest, inhales the fragrance he so loves. These very flowers mean everything to him, because they share the name of the person that matters to him most.

Gladiolus’ warm fingers cup his face, and Prompto only realizes he’s crying when Gladiolus’ thumb wipes something wet off his cheek.

“Do you know what they mean?” Gladiolus sits down in front of Prompto on the bed.

Prompto shakes his head no.

“Gladiolus flowers, when you give them to someone, means your heart has been pierced by the one you’re giving it to.” Gladiolus pulls his lips to one side. It melts Prompto’s heart, both with adoration and guilt. “You love me so much, you did it literally, didn’t you?”

Prompto croaks out a weak laugh. “You’re being mean.”

“Finally,” Gladiolus whispers. (The ‘You laughed.’ remains unspoken.) “I’m just saying. In case you need me to say it.” He pauses to make Prompto look up at him, with those vast blue eyes he so often gets lost in. “What I feel for you–none of that’s changed. Though if anything, they might’ve intensified.”

When Prompto looks away forlornly, Gladiolus guides his eyes back up to him, fingers on the teen’s chin. “Listen to me. These past few days that I haven’t been with you, I–” He breathes deeply. “I haven’t been able to forgive myself, you know. Wait– let me finish. I can’t believe I didn’t realize what you were planning. To kill me, or to just get us off-guard, or whatever. It pains me I didn’t realize because I would have helped you.”

Prompto remains speechless at Gladiolus’ revelations.

“And I would have done everything to stop you from running away.”

Prompto breathes heavy at the revelations, trying to calm his heart, which beats so fast. It isn’t the time to feel so lucky. He still doesn’t have the right to feel happy. The teen looks down, this time Gladiolus lets him, and he sees the circular-ish scar on the eagle’s eye. He touches it, and Gladiolus flinches. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as being without you.”

Prompto smiles, although it’s still a bit weak, the guilt still soaking his heart. “Did you drown yourself in cheese while I was gone? You seem to be spilling them from your mouth right now.”

Gladiolus drops his head so their foreheads touch. “Would you like to try tasting the cheese in my mouth, then?” His snicker makes Prompto smile go wider.

“Can I?” Prompto asks as he laughs. And then he frowns again, pressing his lips to a thin line, the guilt gripping him once more. “Is it still okay?”

“It’ll always be okay.” Gladiolus holds the back of Prompto’s neck. He lets his fingers stay there until the warmth passes on to the teen’s skin. He pulls the teen’s chin close, to make thin lips hover over his. He breathes against Prompto’s mouth as he whispers, “With or without cheese.”

Prompto’s heart beats fast in anticipation for this kiss. When their lips meet, the touch is electrifying, opposite poles meeting to join once more after what seems like centuries of parting. When the older inhales, the older’s lips not leaving the other’s, Prompto feels like the guilt, the weight in his chest, starts to burn to ashes, becoming weightless. This is it. This is what he’d wanted these past few days, and perhaps forever. Gladiolus’ forgiveness, Gladiolus’ warmth, Gladiolus’ love. Gladiolus’ everything.

When Gladiolus’ lips part, Prompto follows. The younger lets Gladiolus’ tongue into his warm mouth, their tongues touching tentatively, relearning the feeling of having the other’s tongue slide against theirs. Prompto keeps his lips and tongue against the other’s, pushing forth even when Gladiolus has to stop for breath. For Prompto it feels like he’s been famished for water, the water that pours only from Gladiolus’ soft lips, and he has to keep drinking, never satisfied.

“Hey, hey,” Gladiolus speaks in between kisses, hot breath against Prompto’s lips. “Slow down. I won’t go anywhere.”

Gladiolus’ words enter one ear and go out the other. Although Prompto is grateful for the other’s concern, his need to refill himself with Gladiolus’ kisses is greater than his need for breath.

“Are you okay?” The older whispers when Prompto starts to shake. “If this is too much, we could stop–”

“No,” Prompto quickly answers, his head shaking in disapproval. He looks into sincere brown eyes, feels Gladiolus’ thick fingers at his back. That’s when Prompto notices his own breathing is shaky, and his fingers on Gladiolus’ shirt are trembling. Still, he persists. “Let’s keep going. Please.”

Gladiolus presses his lips onto Prompto’s forehead. “Only if you calm down first.”

“I _am_ calm.” Prompto pouts. Gladiolus laughs softly at him.

Gladiolus takes trembling fingers off his shirt and presses each to his lips. He kisses each knuckle, slowly, steadily. When he’s gone through each finger, he breathes warm breath unto these tiny hands, hoping what he’s done helps Prompto calm down.

“Are you calm now?”

“Calm _er_.” Prompto smiles.

Gladiolus smiles back at the teen. He observes every minute detail on Prompto’s face as if memorizing him again. He cups a cheek and brushes strands of hair off his face with the other hand. “I missed you.” He whispers soft, just enough for the two of them to hear.

“Me…” Prompto starts to blink a lot, trying not to let the tears fall again that night. He digs his forehead unto Gladiolus’ shoulder. “Me, too. Gladidiot.”

Gladiolus laughs low in his chest, a silent rumble against Prompto’s torso when the man wraps his arms around the younger’s thin body. Gladiolus pulls him close (then closer still). Prompto tries to wrap his arms around the other, too, but his hands are trapped between him and the other man. They stay still for a while, feeling each others’ warmth, their hearts beating in rhythm, becoming one through this silent, sacred moment.

When Gladiolus lets go, Prompto continues to lean against the older’s chest, his head comfortably placed on a sturdy shoulder.

The younger watches Gladiolus’ hand slide from the top of his arm down to his hands, skips to his torso, then down to the belt holding his bathrobe together. The teen gulps at the slight action, excitement running through his veins.

When the hand doesn’t move to pull it off, Prompto groans against the other’s neck, and places a kiss before whispering, “Take it off.”

Then he feels the strap being pulled, tightening slightly around his waist when Gladiolus pulls the ribbon out, then the knot comes undone. The teen props up on his knees to make it easier for Gladiolus to slip the fluffy cloth off his body.

Gladiolus guides the cloth down Prompto’s shoulders, and down Prompto’s arms, his hands tracing smooth, ivory skin. When the bathrobe is off, he eyes the blonde teen’s half-erect organ, pink and thick with growing need. He inhales, letting the teen’s musk fill his lungs, and moves forward to take the head in his mouth when Prompto pushes him away.

“W-wait,” the younger exclaims, a blush coloring his cheeks and ears red. “You first.”

“Alright,” Gladiolus has a teasing smile on his lips. He moves towards the center of the bed, his shoes taken off at the side. He lies on his back, props on his elbows and spreads his legs for Prompto to place himself in between. The older man watches thin fingers unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants. The sound of the zipper going down fills the room when it comes undone. Prompto keeps looking awkwardly up at Gladiolus’ eyes and down to what he’s dealing with his hands. At this, the man decides to say, “No need to be nervous. It’s not the first time you’re doing it.”

“S-shut up. I’m totally not nervous.” Prompto replies, completely flustered at the comment. Gladiolus snickers, finds it adorable how the teen awkwardly looks forward to touching his dick after a few days without it. He supposes he understands why. He’s felt the same, which is why he’d wanted to suck at the other’s half-erect flesh the moment he laid eyes on it.

The younger reaches beneath the band of Gladiolus’ boxers and touches damp flesh. Both parties inhale sharply at the touch.

“Already?” Prompto whimpers, a sensual stimulus tingling from his fingertips and up his arms, down his body. He takes the erect organ out of its confines and stares in awe at how tall it stands.

“Erect, yes. Don’t say ‘Already?’ as if I’ve already come…” Gladiolus says, adds a 'I’m not that weak.’ that he whispers softly, hoping only he himself hears. The older man exhales laboriously, eyes closed, trying to keep himself calm at the teen touching the base of his erection. He finds the strength to snicker, at least. “See how much I missed you?”

Prompto, curled over the other’s groin, in between the other’s legs, looks up at Gladiolus as he tucks his hair behind his ears with his other hand. “That’s foul. You’re foul.”

When Gladiolus looks down at Prompto holding his erection, a little “oh” slips out of his mouth in shock. The teen is unable to cover even half of its length with a single hand, unable to wrap his hand around his girth. “It looks so big in your tiny hands. I’d almost forgotten.”

“S-stop, that’s embarrassing.” Prompto’s ears grow redder. He can’t believe how quickly the older has gotten comfortable, despite the tense atmosphere between them moments before. He’s grateful for it, though. It’s like they’ve placed themselves back to how they were before his betrayal. (Though the word still stings his chest.)

Prompto starts to stroke the thickness from base upward. He licks his lips as he strokes in a rhythm, the erection getting slicker between his fingers due to the precum leaking out of its minuscule hole. He breathes in and out deeply, continues to lick his lips that keep going dry as he watches the thickness shiver. He dips his head down when the thirst is too much, that want–or is it a need?–to taste Gladiolus’ juices on his tongue burning like fire in his chest. He laps at the tip with the lightness of the first lick on an ice cream cone, light in fear of licking too harsh that the scoop might fall off.

Gladiolus breathes in through clenched teeth at the soft lick, Prompto’s tongue on him sending sensual pulses up his spine and warmth throughout his body. His hips involuntarily buck upwards, wiping come onto Prompto’s cheek.

“Sorry,” He groans. Prompto simply smiles up at him, happy his ministrations make the other impatient for his mouth.

Prompto lines a kiss up the vein on the man’s cock, not letting go of the other’s gaze as he does. He watches the older man whimper with every kiss, revels in how the older’s chest rises up and down heavily upon labored breath. When his lips reach the crown, he slowly wraps his lips around the thick girth, enjoys the inaudible moan that escapes the man’s shaking lips, and starts sucking on the crown. Once he sucks, he closes his eyes, moaning around the heated member. He surely has missed this, Gladiolus’ taste on his tongue.

When he heads down deeper, he opens his mouth wider to capture its girth, his jaws coming loose to allow the erection’s smooth entrance. Prompto bobs his head, taking a little bit more of the full erection’s length at a time, sucking strongly, hollowing his cheeks whenever his lips surround the crown of it. He’s taken in his mouth a little bit more than half of the thick cock when it reaches the back of his throat, and by then he is already so breathless.

The view is exquisite to Gladiolus. Prompto, sucking his erection with eyes closed, long eyelashes prominent against freckled cheeks painted red. He can see his smooth, white ass raised near the other end of the bed, and Gladiolus wants to grab it, if he could. Every moan the teen makes around his member, every pleasured noise heavy with lust for him, makes sparks appear before his eyes. He lets his fingers touch the other’s hair, his chest squeezing in delight that it still feels the same.

“Don’t force yourself,” Gladiolus says, his fingers gently running through Prompto’s soft, golden hair. “You don’t have to take it all in.”

Prompto takes it as a challenge. He angles himself so he could take more of the older’s throbbing need, pushing the long stretch of glorious Gladiolus goodness deeper down his throat. Instead, he chokes, and he starts coughing like mad. He coughs a few times around the thick member before he is able to take it out completely of his mouth.

Gladiolus’ breath hitches when the warm dampness of Prompto’s mouth leaves him. He has to take a few moments to ease his breathing again. He was so close to coming.

When both regain their breathing, Gladiolus removes his shirt to wipe sweat and a small streak of come off Prompto’s freckled face. Prompto wipes come off his hand unto the shirt, too.

“I told you not to force yourself.” Gladiolus says when he throws the shirt away. He crawls over to Prompto, gauging the younger to lie on his back.

“I was close to doing it.” Prompto frowns as he drops his head onto cozy pillows. He opens and closes his mouth, feeling if his jaw was still locked in place.

“I’m sure you were.” Gladiolus places his lips against Prompto’s chin when the other closes his mouth. The older traces the younger’s jaw with kisses, hoping the affection heals the tired stretch of his jaw underneath. When his lips reach Prompto’s ear, he whispers, low and velvety, “It felt good.”

Prompto visibly shudders at the words, squirms underneath the older man. He shouldn’t be so sensual, shouldn’t be so turned on when they were awkward a little more than an hour ago. But Gladiolus is kissing at his neck (gosh how he’d missed that), Gladiolus is touching his arms and his chest, and Gladiolus’ thick cock slightly rubs against his, the friction feeling so perfectly good. What else could Prompto be, but turned on? The teen gasps at every downward push of heated flesh against his own and almost screams when Gladiolus spreads his butt cheeks open.

“Don’t be scared,” Gladiolus laughs against the younger’s nipple, and then he bites hard, making Prompto arch his back, delirious. “I won’t enter you unprepared.”

Prompto isn’t sure if he’s glad the older man was considerate enough to prepare him, or disappointed he can’t make Gladiolus enter him right there and then.

“Wait,” Gladiolus says, and showers his chest with kisses before leaving the teen on the bed.

Prompto sits up to find Gladiolus’ back toward him as he searches the drawers for lube. The teen stares in awe of the tattoo on his back. Even before their separation days ago, this tattoo has been such a rare sight. His fingers touch on the detailed feathers, Gladiolus jumping slightly at the touch. The teen finds the scar his bullet went through, on the left wing of the mighty eagle, and his chest throbs with guilt once more.

“Does it still hurt?” Prompto asks, his voice weak with sadness.

“What does?”

“The scar.”

“If you keep asking about it, it will.” Gladiolus laughs, though it’s weak. He’s thankful he finds the lube right then, hoping they get to drop the subject. But then he feels lips on his scar. He groans in both the pain and pleasure of it being touched.

“Better?” Prompto asks, mutters a cure spell against the healing skin for good measure.

“K-keep doing it.” Gladiolus’ voice is rough and husky.

The older man feels Prompto smile against his back before the younger licks and sucks at the scar. It’s a strange feeling to Gladiolus, the scar sends jolts of pain down his spine, but it pulses to pleasure underneath Prompto’s touch. He feels the younger reach around him to tease at his nipples, and he moans low, relishing thin fingers toying with him. He drops his head back, succumbing to the pleasures of Prompto’s fingers on him.

Prompto’s licks trace upwards towards Gladiolus’ shoulders. He nips and laps at rough skin, traces up neck and hairy jaw before he kisses Gladiolus’ cheek. The older turns his head towards Prompto then, sealing their lips in another heated kiss, sloppy because of their hunger and desperation, their tongues missing each other every few swipes.

As they continue to let their tongues dance, Gladiolus takes the other’s hands away from his chest, and starts guiding Prompto back to the center of the bed. When Prompto’s head is safely down the pillows again, the older man realizes that the gladiolus flowers still laid there beside Prompto. He lifts a flower, tears the petals off and spreads them over the younger’s head, who simply watches him in curiosity, eyes wide, deep and blue.

Gladiolus smiles at the sight before him. Red and white clashing with gold hair, pink, swollen lips, and blue eyes as deep as the oceans. “Beautiful.”

Prompto is caught off guard by the compliment and blushes profusely once more. He hides his face underneath his thin, muscly arms, his cheeks warm against his arms. “Shut up.”

“Aww, come on.” Gladiolus dives down to kiss the teen’s elbows. His hands travel downwards to spread Prompto’s legs at his sides. “Let me see your face.”

“No.” Prompto shakes his head to further stress his point. He tries to silence the groan in his throat when he feels Gladiolus’ heated flesh against his buttocks. He gulps, still half-hoping Gladiolus enters him then and there.

“Even if I say please?”

Prompto peeks at Gladiolus through the gaps between his arms. He hears the lube’s bottle cap pop, the sound of lotion spurting onto Gladiolus’ thick fingers sending his heart to drum faster. When he feels Gladiolus’ fingers spread his ass open, his heart thunders in his chest, clamoring in his ears, waiting for the intrusion to come.

Gladiolus inserts a finger, and already, Prompto is clutching at the man’s thick shoulders. The younger’s breaths come out shaky, sucked in sharply. With every push of the digit, the younger moans, the very thickness of Gladiolus’ finger already delicious. When another digit enters him, Prompto already feels like he’s going to come. His own heated organ hasn’t even been touched, and Gladiolus hadn’t even gotten to his sweet spot, but oh, how this very act sends his senses going wild. He can practically see colors before his eyes.

Gladiolus enjoys the view of cheeks, forever flushed red before him, and pink lips open agape, spewing moans one after another. He’s happy the teen’s arms came down of their own accord.

“You can’t come yet,” The older says when he dives down to whisper against the teen’s neck. He’s sucking hard at the expanse of skin there, and he knows he’s leaving visible bruises on ivory skin. “Aren’t we just starting?”

“Asking to hold all this back in–” Prompto grunts, his fingers clutching tighter at Gladiolus’ shoulders. “–is torture itself, you know.”

“Maybe that serves you right.” Gladiolus nibbles on Prompto’s earlobe. The teen moans deliciously directly into his ears to cause Gladiolus himself to groan in pleasure. “This should teach you not to leave me again.”

Gladiolus moves his lips towards Prompto’s once more to kiss him tenderly. Prompto’s tongue tastes sweeter against his every time they kiss, and it makes it difficult to stop until he runs out of breath.

“Gladio,” the younger calls, the very name a plea against the man’s lips, out of breath. He pushes his hips towards Gladiolus’ waiting member.

“Hold your horses. I’m still prepping you.”

“But I want you so bad.” Prompto’s voice shakes, almost crying.

“One more,” Gladiolus says, and he pushes in a third digit. Prompto visibly shakes, first his torso, then his arms and legs, erotic jolts going through his body. Unintelligible sounds keep spilling from the teen’s mouth, his mind getting closer to the edge. The older asks, just for the fun of it. “Feeling good?”

“You–you know the answer…” Prompto mutters between breaths. “How–how much longer?”

“Just a bit more,” Gladiolus bites down his lip. It’s not like he didn’t want to push his full length deep into Prompto. He wanted to. So fucking badly. But he has to prepare Prompto well, else it wouldn’t feel good for the teen.

“Please, Gladio.” The teen begs again. His voice croaks from all the screaming he’s done so far. “I’ve missed you so much. Fill me up, please. _Please_.”

The requests melt Gladiolus’ heart into sweet sugar coating apples. It fills his chest with something fuzzy and fluffy, and it stings behind his eyes like tears.

“Prompto,” The older man groans, heavy with want. His lips rapidly mash against the teen’s thin lips, drowning all of the teen’s moans within his mouth. He feels so happy he could cry, knowing the teen wants him just as much as he does, even after the shit they’ve just gone through. He takes his fingers out, hurriedly coats his member so he could thrust into Prompto. “Are you ready?”

Prompto gasps for breath, trying to calm himself down for what’s to come. “Yes. _Please_.”

Then Gladiolus thrusts his hips forward, his cock slipping in halfway into a tight heat. Both parties let out a heavy, shaky breath at the intrusion, one at the stretch, the other at the tightness.

“So good,” they say in unison. When they catch themselves saying the same thing, they both laugh, hearts fluttering in their chests.

“Gladio,” Prompto caresses the man’s left cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his scar.

Gladiolus presses his face against the other’s warm palm, presses the small hand even closer by pressing his own hand against it.

Perhaps in the midst of bliss, his emotions in disarray, Prompto drops his guard down from hues of sorrow. “Gladio, I’m sorry.”

Gladiolus’ eyes widen in surprise at first, then smiles as gentle as he can. “You don’t have to say that. I–” He pauses when he notices tears welling up in the younger’s eyes. He isn’t sure if he should say it. It might hurt more if he does, and the tears the teen is fighting back might fall, but he takes the chance. “I forgive you. Even without your apologies.”

Prompto sobs once, almost choking on his own breath, and then the tears start spilling like rain. Gladiolus could only watch him cry, wiping away the tears whenever he could.

“Come on, now. Don’t cry.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Gladio. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Prompto’s apologies fill the air, his arms wiping against his eyes and cheeks to rub the tears away.

“I forgive you.” Gladiolus says, and Prompto breaks into more tears. “I forgive you every time.”

“You shouldn’t, though. You shouldn’t forgive me. Why–why are we even doing this?”

“Because I miss you.” Gladiolus answers immediately. His eyes are still gentle when Prompto looks up at him through a gaze blurred by his own tears. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“I did.” Prompto sobs weakly. His nose is red and his eyes are still wet. He keeps sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. “I still do.”

“Can’t that be reason enough?”

Prompto presses his lips together, and looks away, shrinking at how intense Gladiolus stares at him.

 _Of course, it’s enough._ He thinks. _Anything from Gladio is enough. More than enough._

Gladiolus kisses each of Prompto’s eyes, then the corner of Prompto’s lips. He takes the gladiolus flowers and rubs them onto Prompto’s thin arms. He hopes the fragrance calms the teen down.

“Better?” Gladiolus keeps rubbing the flowers against the teen’s skin, its red tint painting ivory skin red. He watches Prompto inhale the aroma, though his nose is stuffy from crying, but he senses the teen calming down. After a while, Prompto nods weakly.

The older man slowly dives down. He claims Prompto’s lips in a slow, searing kiss, tongues languidly circling each other, still tasting sweet. His hands continue to rub and massage thin arms, before he thrusts his hips, just half an inch. The force of it makes Prompto shake, his toes curling.

“Gladio,” Prompto whimpers, and he’s almost crying again. The very name is a prayer that leaves his lips.

“Prompto,” Gladiolus utters the same way. He thrusts once more, short and abrupt, his cock sheathing another half inch into Prompto’s tight heat. He hisses at the warmth that surrounds him. He wants to moan “so good, so good, so good” over and over. “Prompto, I’m moving again.”

Gladiolus thrusts just as Prompto nods, and it sends pleasured jolts all throughout Prompto’s body. The electricity keeps piling up in his veins with every tiny thrust, and by the time Gladiolus is fully sheathed into him, Prompto is scared he’s completely lost his mind to the throes of pleasure, his mind going haywire.

“You okay?” Gladiolus asks against Prompto’s cheek, kissing him softly, his beard teasing smooth cheeks. He licks at the skin, tastes the saltiness of dried tears.

“Wait, I–” Prompto gasps for air. He’s clutching onto the sheets, eyes closed. “I want to keep feeling you throb in me.”

Gladiolus’ cock throbs thicker at the line.

“ _Oh_. That’s good.”

“You’re unfair.” Gladiolus laughs softly. He kisses Prompto once more on the lips, infinitely many times more if the teen permits him. When the man pulls away, Prompto takes hold of his head and kisses the scar on his cheek. Gladiolus stares into deep, blue eyes when Prompto lies back down.

“Ready?” Gladiolus asks once more. Prompto nods, lacing his fingers behind Gladiolus’ neck.

The older man starts thrusting shallow, then thrusts harsher and deeper with every shove. Prompto’s moans escalate the same, getting more high-pitched and croaky with every push. He keeps moaning Gladiolus’ name, keeps chanting it like a prayer, keeps muttering it as if every breath he heaves comes from the man thrusting into him. Gladiolus keeps him alive. Gladiolus keeps him burning. Gladiolus keeps him feeling fresh, and new, and wanted like he never thought he could be.

The older man observes Prompto’s face as he continues to thrust. It’s the same view every time–blue eyes or long eyelashes contrasted against flushed cheeks, and pink lips swollen from the many kisses they share that night. It’s the same view, but it is precious every time. He feels his love burn wilder in his chest when they do this. Every time they’re connected, heated flesh inside heated tightness. Every time they become one. It’s both scary–to feel so connected to another person as if you’re one body and flesh–and wonderful–that they’re lucky they found each other and they do things like this. Gladiolus wishes this doesn’t ever stop. Not ever again.

Gladiolus hooks his arms underneath Prompto’s knees to drive into the teen harsher, the passion aflame in his chest wanting to push his love into Prompto deeper. It’s still not enough. His pent up desperation for the younger has pooled scorchingly hot in his stomach that he still cannot satiate it no matter how harshly he thrusts. (He hopes the younger’s continuous streak of moans is evidence enough that his harshness isn’t hurting him.)  He slides his hands to the bottom of Prompto’s legs. Without needing instruction to, the teen wraps his legs around the man’s wide torso.

“I’ll get a bit rougher, okay?” Gladiolus whispers, then plants a kiss on the other’s forehead, making the younger bend uncomfortably for a second. Then the older stands on his knees, bringing Prompto’s legs up with him. He thrusts immediately at full force, diagonally downwards into Prompto’s scorching, tight hole. The first thrust makes Prompto jerk at the pleasure heightened by the new angle.

“Wh-what was that?” His blinks his eyes as if he’s trying to clear his vision.

Gladiolus smirks in triumph. “It felt that good, huh?” He keeps thrusting downward with his whole weight, hitting Prompto’s spot accurately with every shove. The teen, in turn, spews unintelligible sounds from his mouth. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, so do their joined cries of pleasure.

“Gla–gladio,” Prompto moans, plenty of thrusts later. “C-com…”

“You can come, it’s okay.” Gladiolus assures him in a whisper. Prompto’s arms had given up by then. The teen had fallen backwards into the pillows, and had clutched unto the pillows for support instead. But his hands are back up now, reaching out for the other man. Gladiolus takes a hand and presses his lips against it, sucks thin fingers when the kiss isn’t enough.

The climax comes moments later, Prompto screaming Gladiolus’ name out loud, his toes curling and his fingers digging onto the wings on the older’s arms. When he came, he spurt onto his chest, due to the angle from which Gladiolus was thrusting into him. The older has to thrust a few more times into Prompto, who is absolutely spent, zero energy on top of pillows, before he spurts his seed into the younger’s ass. The squelch deafens his ears, and triples the ecstasy he feels.

Gladiolus lies on top of Prompto now, his heavy weight crushing the teen.

“G-get off me, Gladio,” Prompto laughs. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Woops, sorry.” Gladiolus rolls off of him and lands on what remains of the gladiolus bouquet. They’re both panting for air, trying to regain their breathing after such an intense and emotional session.

“Are we good?” Gladiolus asks.

Prompto rolls on his side to face Gladiolus. He gets absorbed in brown, gentle eyes that seemed to hide a fear in them. A fear of losing Prompto, the teen assumes. Trying to push those fears away, Prompto nods, a bright smile on his lips. The smile comes naturally, genuine, and he feels like his cheeks are going to ache from how hard he’s smiling.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

***

When their adventure is over, and have managed to save the world, they settle down to live in the same apartment. Their room always smells of gladiolus flowers to remind each other that they’re never alone, that they will always be loyal to each other, and that they each have pierced the other on the heart with unrelenting, unending passion.

**Author's Note:**

> That you've read through more than 8,000 words from me, I'd like to thank you so, so, so much for your time and patience. I hope you enjoyed reading this (then again how can you enjoy hurt? Haha) as much as I did when writing it.
> 
> Kudos and comments greatly appreciated. ^^
> 
> Have a lovely day.


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